Lime in the Coconut
by aRegularJo
Summary: It's as easy as putting the lime in the coconut. How Chase, Cameron and House pulled off the prank in "Let Them Eat Cake."
1. You Put the Lime in the Coconut

Disclaimer: Don't own 'em

Characters: House, Chase, Cameron

Summary: How House, Chase, and Cameron pulled off the prank in "Let Them Eat Cake." Canon Chase/Cameron, friendship fic.

* * *

It was lunch, and it was enjoyable. Until the paper football hit his temple and bounced off at a weird angle, and the projectile landed on his limp Caesar salad.

"What's this?" Cameron asked, reaching over her chicken wrap to grab it. He looks around, unsure even of the direction the thing came from. His thoughts immediately went to House, but he couldn't spot his favorite (and also least-favorite) crippled ex-boss anywhere. Cameron spun the paper so the writing faced him, her eyebrow raised, half-skeptical and half-pissed.

In a scrawl that was unmistakably House's, the note read_ Ditch the moll. Morgue 10 mins_

He laughed nervously and took the paper from her. "Think I should go?"

"Yes," she said, her voice surprisingly adamant. "But I'm coming with."

"I'm supposed to ditch the moll," he pointed out.

"Since when have _you _cared what House wanted?" she volleyed back. She'd been pissed with him since he 'ditched her' during the hostage thing last week, and he knew better than to argue right now. "I'm going to clear my tray. We really should try and schedule longer lunches; I hate this food."

"Where _is_ he?" he said, getting up to follow her to the conveyor belt. "Seriously, do you see him?"

She searches too, but fails, and shrugs. "Nope. No Wilson, either."

"You sure you want to make an uninvited trip to meet House down in the morgue?" he asked. "He might throw a body at you or something."

"Please, he couldn't throw a body. Not without enough Vicodin to screw up his aim," she said, rolling down her sleeves. "Do you know what this is about?"

"No idea," he answered, opening the door to the stairwell for her. They jogged down the steps in silence until they reached the cold basement hallway. As they punched in the code to enter the morgue, Chase noticed that the morgue tech had mysteriously disappeared. He pushed the door open and prepared for the onslaught of cool air. "House?" he called tentatively. Cameron stood slightly behind him, rubbing her arms.

"I should have brought my sweater," she muttered. "House! No playing freaky games in the morgue." She looked cautiously at Chase.

"Yeah, that'll stop him from throwing a body," he muttered. She sent him a slightly cross _Look_ ad continued to search for House among the stainless steel dissection tables.

Suddenly House, spinning on a stool and clutching an anatomy-class skeleton, shot out of a door. His trajectory was completely out of control, and he spun wildly toward them before using his heels as brakes. Still, the skeleton hit a corner of a table and flew out of his hands, (predictably) narrowly missing Cameron, who glared. He shrugged.

"I told you to _ditch_ the moll," House whined. "If I needed a moral spine, I'd bring Wilson down here." Cameron glared.

"Yeah, because hitting me _in the head_ with a football while we're eating isn't going to pique some interest," Chase said sarcastically, crossing his arms.

"Well, I'm going to need you, too, so you're allowed to stay," House said.

"Need?" Cameron scoffed. "House, you don't need people."

House raised his eyebrow and pulled a laptop from a sink well at the end of a table. "Ew. I'm not touching that," Cameron said.

"Just watch, Nurse Priss," House said, lifting the screen of his laptop. "Look at this." He motioned them over. He cackled as they peered at the screen.

Somehow, House had gotten wireless to work in the morgue, and on the screen there was a large five-line drawing of a house, like what a kid would draw, and a digital bobble-head of House waved from a lower-floor window. _Dr. Gregory House's Second-Opinion Clinic_ arced over the house, and _With Medical Advice Direct from Dr. Gregory House_ flashed intermittently under the house. House hovered the arrow icon over the door and clicked. "House, what is this?" Chase asked. "Ambition isn't exactly your strong suit."

"Not to mention this is _clearly _detrimental to the patient," Cameron said. "There is _no _value in practicing medicine over the Internet!"

"Keep your panties on—for now," House said, shooting her an appraising look. Although he knew the reaction House wanted was for Chase to shove him, he simply took a deep breath instead. Cameron rolled her eyes.

A new page had opened, reading _The Doctor Is In!_ followed by a laundry list of instructions. Chase scanned them. "You're getting people to email you symptoms and you tell them their original doctor was right, and they pay you $500 for your 'advice?'" Chase said incredulously. "House, is this even you?"

"Bingo." House said. "That only took you five minutes."

"Who's running this? You can shut them down if they're using your name. Although I'm sure this is illegal," Cameron stood up.

"Only in nine states," House said. "None of which are named New Jersey. And who do you think is running this? I'll give you a hint: They work here."

"Gotta be Kutner," Chase finally said. "You obviously know it wasn't us, only a doctor who's worked with you is brave enough—or stupid enough—to do this, Taub wouldn't waste his time, Foreman wouldn't say that you're a better name to use than his own, and Thirteen isn't _that_ creative. Plus she's too busy hooking up with chicks," Chase said. "Kutner's crazy enough to come up with this and stupid enough to think you wouldn't find it."

House looked at him with near-admiration, and Cameron asked, "How did you even find this?"

"Ever _Google _yourself, Cameron?"

"No," she said, in her patent I'm-either-talking-to-House-or-a-stupid-child voice.

"You should. You'd be surprised what it turns up," House said. "You too, Chase. Anyways, he's been running this gambit for about three weeks now."

"And you haven't _shut it down_?" Cameron said edgily.

"_Working _on it, it's time for my Master Evil Plan to Take Over the Universe. Or at least get back at Kutner." He released a mirthful, vampire-movie cackle, which—Chase had to admit—sounded damned creepy in the morgue, echoing off all the metal.

"Got that out of your system?" Cameron asked dryly. "And did we have to meet in the morgue, of all places?"

"Yes," House said. "I need you people."

"For a scheme?" Chase raised his eyebrows. "You couldn't use … Cuddy and Wilson?" Chase _liked_ House, really, but he wasn't going to get caught up doing his damned bidding.

"I. Need. You," House repeated. "There's a cut for you involved."

"A cut?" Chase asked. "You're … posing as a patient?"

"Ding-ding-ding again!" House clapped. "Getting laid on a regular basis is really helping your mad diagnostic skillz."

Cameron and Chase stared at him, the only appropriate response. "What did you _need_ us for, House?" Cameron asked. "Hurry it up, it's freezing and we both are actually held accountable for our tardiness."

"I've been posing as a patient, like Golden Boy said," House started. "Recent boob-job recipient who is positive leaks are causing muscle fatigue, hair loss, a school of other symptoms. Starting tomorrow I've hired a, ahem, _lovely_ young lady to provide certain services, including posing as this patient."

"Cuddy's going to be thrilled at the Hooker Parade," Chase said.

"Cuddy's not important here," House said. "I'm sure that either by now, or at least by tomorrow, Kutner's going to call in Boob Boy to help him out. I've got them working together as Foreman tries to save Thirteen's life OR convince her that she _has something she really, really wants to live for. _BB is going to demand a cut to keep it hush-hush. My friend is going to be waiting for them in the lobby, get on an elevator with them. She's going to tell them she's going to see Dr. House, they'll figure out then—where's the easiest place to admit a patient?"

"The ER," Cameron said, and Chase could see this plan forming.

"Which is where you'll be."

"They could take her to the clinic. People aren't _that_ predictable," she argued.

"These two are. Even more predictable than you two Blondsie Twins. Of _course_ they won't take her to the clinic, because Cuddy or Wilson or any number of other doctors who wouldn't hesitate to tell on them would be there. They see solidarity with you, Kutner knows you're the most likely to sympathize with a random patient that's walked in," House said. "Anyways. You will then keep her there for a while. Give her something to eat. Set her up with some sort of scary symptom that looks like it'll lead to neuro damage—I recommend blood from the ear but you can be as creative as you want. I'll page you when I'm starting a differential with them, _then_ you page them. She knows what to do. You just keep your pretty little face straight and tell them to call me. If they know anything, they will. But since they don't, keep her in a bed. They'll ask the two of you for help, and run whatever test they want. Bring Chase in if they don't ask. Keep telling them just to tell me, but just go with it."

"And then what?" Chase asked. "You want me to cut her open?" He raised an eyebrow.

"No, you _idiot._ After a few hours, page them that she died. That you checked and she's dead. At this point I want you doing the talking, they'll think something's up if the longer-haired one isn't crying and calling in Cuddy," House said. "She'll be in the morgue, and tell them she's there and to see for themselves. I'll be waiting to freak the shit out of them."

"And where's our cut?" Chase asked.

"I'm not shutting _down_ the clinic," House said. "I'm forcing them to remain open and split the pot with me. You'll get thirty percent of my cut."

"What's your cut?" Chase asked.

"I'm taking half."

"Then I want forty percent of your cut."

House looked slightly taken aback, then shrugged. "It's my name. Deal."

"You can't keep the site _up_," Cameron argued. "It's unsafe _and_ unethical."

"Relax, I hacked his email months ago. There's been no inaccurate diagnoses from the original doctor. We're ripping off hypochondriacs."

"Still not okay," Cameron said resolutely.

Chase shot a long look at his girlfriend—it was a lot of money up for grabs—and then back at House. "She's not going to budge."

He rolled his eyes. "And there goes Chase's new backbone. Fine," he looked at Cameron and waved his cane in defeated disgust. "I'll keep it up for a month, just to screw with Kutner. Chances are he'll stop being ambitious, won't take too many cases. After a month—which is just to make him miserable for doing this damned thing—I'll make him shut it down."

"_And _if anyone has a conflicting diagnosis _you_ will call them personally," Cameron added.

"Fine," House snarked, rolling his eyes. "Doesn't the moral-compass schtick _ever_ get old? Just a teensy bit?"

Cameron glared at him in response.

"Don't let your face freeze like that in here," House said, striding (okay, limping) out. Chase turned to Cameron, and shrugged.

"You can't be serious," she said.

"Easy couple thousand," he said. "Come on, Ally. We'll … take a vacation. And it's House. He won't screw up a diagnosis."

* * *

Please review!

* * *


	2. Drank Them Both Up

Thanks everyone for reading and reviewing! There's a final part, which should be up by Tuesday!!

Disclaimer: Sh'yeah, right. That's why I'm posting here....

* * *

Cameron was trying to concentrate on her charting when she felt a shadow looming somewhere to her right. She turned. "Hey, Dr. Cameron," Kutner said nervously, bouncing on his heels a little.

She knew what this was. She chewed on her inner cheek for a second before replying, "Hey Kutner, what's up?" she wasn't a huge fan of this scheme, but she knew the online patients would probably be safe with House, which made it OK. And Kutner did kind of deserve it. And it was kind of fun to be in on one of House's schemes. He'd always cut her out in favor of the boys, and she was going to prove she could do it. "And you can call me Cameron, you know that." It was practically a throwaway, but worth something.

"Right. Uh, we have a patient. … That we need to keep in the ER."

"Patients don't stay in the ER," she said, feigning confusion.

"Well, we'd like this one too, for a little," he said evasively.

She raised an eyebrow. "Something amiss in the Diagnosticsland?"

"Well, it's like this," he couldn't make eye contact, and she bit her lip to keep from laughing. "I've … been running this second-opinion clinic, and one of the … patients didn't like her diagnosis, so she came to visit me."

"So? Get House to back you up if she doesn't believe you," Kutner looked at his feet, a nurse, the ceiling, a vending machine, and the wheelchairs parked twenty feet away and sighed. "Why can't you do that?" she quizzed. She bit her tongue sharply. Ow.

"Because … Because the second-opinion clinic may be in House's name?"

_Finally_. "You're telling me you're lying to patients that someone _known _for being an insane medical maverick is taking on their case over the _Internet_? The Internet is hardly responsible medicine, and you're stealing an identity! Crime, Kutner!" She banged her clipboard for emphasis, and he jumped a little.

"Look, please? Just help us out. She's got all these piercing and tattoos and she's complaining of fatigue and hair loss. She just needs some broad-spectrum antibiotics and she'll be good to go." He was begging.

"You know, I should really tell Cuddy."

"Come on, please. She's just … overreacting."

"That's not the point. The identity theft is a little bit of an issue."

"Look, it's a huge clearinghouse, none of the patients are seriously in any danger, and what House doesn't know can't hurt him. … Can you please, from one House lackey to another, show a tiny ounce of compassion for how much _shit_ I could be in if this woman keeps overreacting, and just give her antibiotics and discharge her?" He looked at her pleadingly, truly and extremely desperate. "Please?"

She sighed. "I can't just admit her. Which department? And you know, now that I know I'm legally liable. This is _bad_ for me, Kutner."

"Just … antibiotics. Monitor the situation. And I will buy you _and _Chase lunch if you could just get her to go home."

"Fine," she fake-relented. "But I can only keep her for so long. And if she makes a scene …"

"Page me," he finished, before wrapping her in a tight, spontaneous hug. "Thank you so much, Cameron!" He dragged her over to a heavily made-up, tattooed blonde, and Cameron _almost_ laughed. Almost. "Deedee, this is Dr. Cameron. She'll be giving you some antiobiotics and monitoring your condition. Dr. Cameron, this is Deedee."

Cameron nodded. "Pleased to meet you," she said awkwardly. She turned to the boys. "I've got this. Go tend to House. And make sure he takes the _other_ exit tonight."

Kutner nodded, his joy and anxiety nearly bubbling over. "Got it. Thank you, Cameron." They dashed off.

She turned back to Deedee and nodded. "So you're House's friend. Call me Allison."

She nodded as well, and held out her hand. "My name's actually Chelsea. Just using Deedee for this … gig," she said. "Sorry we're running late—I don't think Phase 2 can kick in until tomorrow morning. How do you want this to work?"

She saw Chase in the corner of her eye, loitering near the spot at the admit desk she'd just vacated, and motioned him over. "This is Robert Chase. He's also in on … it," she said to Deedee. "Chase, this is Chelsea. AKA Deedee. AKA the patient."

"Hi," he said, smiling and reaching out a hand. "Little behind schedule."

"I know," Chelsea nodded. "The boys took forever to get to the lobby. I think we'll pick up Phase 2 tomorrow, like I was telling your girlfriend."

"They'll be in tomorrow morning," Cameron said slowly. "I'll be in around eleven, so why don't you stop by a little after that? We need to …"

"Fake a complex partial seizure," Chelsea said. "I'm going to be singing. Just keep a straight face."

Behind them, Cameron could hear someone whistling that ridiculous reggae song, "Coconut." She turned, and saw House.

"I see you've all had a chance to become acquainted," House said. "Hey, Deeds."

"Hey Greg," she smiled flirtatiously.

"Now, because the Idiot Boys took so long, we'll pick this up tomorrow. Say you gave her antibiotics through the night and—"

"We got it, House," Cameron smiled. "11:30 sound good?"

He looked impressed. "I'll have the troops ready to get shot down," he said.

"Great. Now I'm off in … three … so we're going to go." Cameron said. "We'll see you two tomorrow morning."

"Night, lovebirds," House said.

"She seems nice," Chase said, his arm going to the small of her back as they headed toward the lockers.

"Yeah," Cameron snorted.

He looks at her, that unnerving look that reads her too easily. "Come _on,_ just have fun with this one," he said.

She grinned. "Don't worry. Now, this vacation. … I'm thinking a beach at Christmas …" she smiled.

* * *

She got to work a few minutes early the next day; Chelsea was standing outside the ER entrance holding two coffees. "Brought you one. I hope you like black."

She was surprised, but took the cup gratefully. "Thank you. Let's get you set up." She led Chelsea to the same bay they'd used yesterday. "So, you ever acted before?"

Chelsea smirked. "Not in … this capacity, but yes," she said.

"Are those tattoos real?"

"Only two," she said, turning over her wrist. "This one," she pointed to a small star, "and there's a Celtic symbol on my back."

"And the rest …?"

"Are completely fake and will wash off in two weeks. Greg paid. God, I'd never be stupid enough to expose myself to _that_ many diseases," she laughed.

"I always thought about it, but I don't think I could handle the needles," Cameron said randomly as she handed Chelsea the gown and stepped outside so she could change.

"And you're a doctor?" Chelsea laughed louder now, full-throated and merry.

"I know," Cameron said ruefully.

"So how long you been seeing that tall drink of gorgeous?"

Cameron smiled. "Since last May, give or take. You ready?"

"Yep," Chelsea said, grinning and adjusting her gown. Cameron found the vial of fake blood she'd hidden yesterday and carefully dotted some on Chelsea's ear. "They should be ready, right?"

Suddenly Cameron's pager blared. _Get a move on already! _"Yeah, lemme page them. Just a sec." She hooked up 'Deedee' to a few more monitors, made a few notations, then paged them. "Wait here. I'll go grab them."

She waited at the entrance of the ER, tapping her foot, pretending to be pissed off. This was kind of fun. Plus, she got to give them hell. "Where have you been?" she hissed as they ran up, haggard.

"Sorry—differential." Kutner said. "What? What's wrong?"

She sighed. "You need to see this."

She pulled them over to 'Deedee,' who was now crouched over, yanking at her hair, and singing a song Cameron couldn't quite hear. As they approached she realized it was "Coconut."

They stopped. And stared. Cameron made her best 'aghast' face. Chelsea made her best scared face and peered at them. "Deedee," Kutner finally tried. "Can you stop singing?" He actually sounded a little irritated. Time to step in.

"These are fullaplonatism. She could be having a partial seizure right now." Best to steer them directly toward House's solution. Deedee's singing got louder. Cameron bit her cheek. "You need … to get House."

"Deedee!" Taub yelled. This was too fantastic.

"Yelling at her is not going to be an effective treatment," she hissed.

"She's _faking_. It's a cry for attention," Kutner said. Damn.

She stared at Deedee in awe. Cameron knew they still trusted her medical opinion more than her own. "Her _brain_ could be misfiring," she gaped at Chelsea wonderingly, who was really doing a knockout performance. She was impressed. She hadn't even been able to audition for _Our Town _in high school because she knew she was such a bad actress.

"Right, a rare neurological condition is far more likely than a cry for attention!" Kutner shouted. "I mean, nothing about this woman screams look at me."

_Too_ perfect, Cameron though, lunging toward Chelsea and pushing back her hair. "On the other hand, look at her!" She exposed the trickle of blood and turned back to the two men, hoping her excitement was contained. They leaned in, totally owned. "She needs a full neurological workup." She looked at them. They both looked like they'd wet themselves. "Get House!"  
"Cameron, please," Kutner started. "Just give us a few more minutes. We can figure this out."

She let Chelsea's hair fall. "Yeah, you've really been doing that so far."

"Just … just give me a little more time to think," he pleaded.

She rolled her eyes. "At least talk to Chase about this," she said, finally finding a way to tie him in. "Because you _definitely_ need a second opinion to this diagnosis. You already know what mine is."

He nodded, his eyes full and wide. "I'll talk to Chase, I promise. Just give me a few minutes." Both pagers went off. "Shit. We have to get this but then I'll talk to Chase, I promise. I promise," he dashed off.

Finally, _finally_ Cameron could laugh. And it had been fun, and funny. She leaned heavily against the bed, limp and practically rolling in laughter. "Take this," she finally breathed out, "and page Chase. He needs to get over here."

"You okay?" Chelsea asked.

"I'm fine," Cameron gasped. "That … was _fantastic_. Emmy-worthy. Seriously." She kept laughing. "I'll be here a while."


	3. Called the Doctor, Woke Him Up

Thanks everyone for reading and reviewing! Hopefully the conclusion lives up to the rest of it. I think something went wrong in uploading it the first time, so here it is again. Apologies!

* * *

Chase found his girlfriend lying on her back on the bed in Chelsea's bay, emitting sharp, random bursts of giggles. "She's been at it for like five minutes," Chelsea informed him.

"I can't help it! It was _fantastic_," she finally sat up, using the back of her wrists to wipe her eyes. "Seriously, Rob, it was _amazing_. She was singing "Coconut" and Kutner and Taub were just so, so pissed off," she started laughing again. Chase smiled and ground his toe into the linoleum, amazed to see her so openly happy and perky. "And their faces, when they saw the bleed … I'm surprised Kutner didn't pee."

"And you thought this was a bad idea," he ribbed her lightly.

"Shut up," she said, smiling. "I told Kutner to go find you for a backup diagnosis of 'Tell House.' Do you want to go grab something to eat and he can come find us there?" Chase realized he was starving; he'd been on since six and would be off at two, though he didn't have any more surgeries scheduled.

"Sure," he said. He turned to Chelsea. "You should have a few hours. Want to wait in the surgical lounge? They won't catch you there, and I'll come get you when House's ready."

"Sounds perfect," she hopped off the table. "Can I …" she motioned toward her clothes.

"Of course," Cameron said, jumping out of the bay and grabbing his hand to pull him out, too. She whisked the curtain shut. "Nice working with you, Chelsea," she called.

"Same," Chelsea called back. "Really fantastic job."

Chase noticed that she didn't drop his hand as they headed toward the cafeteria. "Seriously, it went _perfectly_. He's in too deep now to go to House, so we can push that. He won't break. We'll agree to run a couple of tests, then I'll just have the nurses in the ER say she died of respiratory arrest. Then they'll come to me or to you, and we'll direct them toward the morgue."

"Look at you, all rule-breaker," he teased. "Want to quit here and go on the road Bonnie and Clyde style next?"

"Only if it ends with me sleeping with Brad Pitt—sorry, but you know he's on the To-Do List," she said.

"Wrong outlaw pair," he muttered, and she started to laugh again.

They settled down with their sandwich and salad, and Kutner flew up almost immediately to them. Before he could say anything, though, Chase cut in smoothly and said, "Cameron's already filled me in."

"Right, right." Kutner said. "Thank you guys for helping me."

Chase saw Cameron raise her eyebrow at that phrase, but he said, "What do you think it is?"

"Could be an aneurism," Kutner said. "We've got to control her blood pressure, start her on a calcium-channel blocker."

"Or," Chase forked some lettuce, "you could tell House."

"I can't tell House," Kutner looked so dejected Chase had to stifle a laugh. Cameron was right.

Cameron swallowed her fry. "You'll be in trouble," she agreed. "On the other hand, she's _sick_."

"She's singing," Kutner objected. Cameron shot him a sympathetic look.

"And bleeding out of her ears, and losing her hair," Chase said. "And an aneurism doesn't explain the joint pain."

"Wilson's Disease does," Kutner suggested.

Cameron set down her drink. "No Kaiser-Fleischer rings."

"Anorexia," Kutner tried.

"Now you're just desperate," Chase said. Kutner looked absolutely stumped for a second.

"Biliary tumor causing paraneoplastic syndrome," he tried.

Chase looked at Cameron. That fit. Shit. Kid was good. He remembered how Kutner had attacked the steamroller metaphor when House's dad died. He didn't give up. "That … might actually fit," Chase said, feigning surprise. Cameron raised her eyebrows.

And suddenly he had an idea. It went against Cameron's code and House's rules, but he didn't' care. "I'll scan to confirm," he stood.

"You'd do that for me?" Kutner's tone was one step above the gratefulness expressed by heart-transplant recipients.

"Oh, well you don't have the time," Chase pointed out. "Which means I can ask for 25 percent of your income, and you'll give it to me."

Cameron looked cautiously over at Kutner, obviously surprised at Chase's step. He had to admit, it was pretty ballsy. Kutner eyed both of them, before leaning back, clearly resigned. Chase nodded, kissed Cameron's cheek, and headed off to find both House and Chelsea.

The next hours were too easy. He set Chelsea up in the morgue, performed one last surgery, and then headed to the locker room to head home.

"That was hot," Cameron drawled from behind him as he opened his locker.

"Will that trick ever fail to get you off?" he joked, yanking his scrub top over his head.

"Nope," she said, coming to stand next to him.

"Thought you didn't approve of blackmail," he said, knocking his forehead against hers.

"This is the Robin Hood-style stuff," she rationalized. "Teaching the idiot ripping off the bigger idiots a lesson." She rested her slim, cool hands on his waist.

"And you ditched work just to come find me and tell me this?" he laughed, but didn't move.

"On break," she said, finally reaching up and kissing him. After a few moments, though, she pulled back and said, "Unfortunately, it was a 10-minute break. So I have to get back, and wait for Kutner to show up. But I'm off at six—dinner at the pub with Foreman like we planned—"

"Like you planned," he interjected.

"Tomato, tomahto. I want to see how far this gets," she said, running her hands up his forearms. "Then—laundry." She smiled her 'sweet' smile, which was really a near-leer.

"Can't wait," he grumbled, linking his hands behind her waist.

"Come on—fresh sheets," she shot back, kissing him again before stepping back. "Also, vacation planning. This whole scheme has a vacation at the end of the rainbow, and I have beaches to evaluate."

"I wanna add one to the list," he said.

"Which one?"

"Bondi," he said, leaning against the lockers. Damn. Suave didn't work too well shirtless against freezing metal.

"Australia," she said, appraising him appraising her. "Yeah, I think the weather qualifies it." She looked at her watch. "Gotta go," she blew a kiss and dashed. This whole prank thing was loosening her up to almost insane levels.

He was the last one to arrive at the pub, but Cameron had already ordered a drink. He slid into his traditional spot—Foreman had always sat in the center, for some reason, which was now pretty annoying—and waited for Cameron to work the conversation around to Chelsea/Deedee.

Before she could, though, House and Chelsea suddenly materialized at the table. "Foreman," House said, unfolding a twenty from his wallet. "Go get me two beers. And I know how to count change." Foreman looked between the four of them before getting up to get the beers, glancing back at them every few seconds. Chase scooted around until he was next to Cameron, allowing Chelsea and House to fill the space.

"How'd it go?" Cameron asked.

"Freaked the shit out of them. I think the wee one weed his pants," House said. He looked at them sternly. "Not bad job today. Cameron, congratulations on shouting down the annoying angel on your shoulder that never shuts up."

"Thanks, House," she smiled. "Again, Chelsea, really good job."

"Thanks," Chelsea smiled. "If only all my gigs were this fun."

"Yeah, well, you can't always get what you what," House said, without a hint of acrimony. He shifted, grabbed two somethings out of his back pocket. "Chase, this is your cut from Kutner's last week." He flicked both checks toward Chase.

"He wrote _two_ checks?" Chase asked, eyeing them. One is for $1,500 and the second is for $900."

"Yeah, well, I told him to write thirty percent of my half—which was a good three thou—to you, and then he informed me that you were to get 25 percent for performing tests. I said it wasn't necessary, but," something in House's jaw flicked, "he said he was kind of scared of you. Use that to your advantage."

"You really went all mob-enforcer on his ass," Chase observed.

"If you don't have a check by 5 p.m. every Friday for the next month, let me know and I'll send Wilson to beat him up," House replied.

"Thanks, House," Chase said, pocketing the two checks.

"You two want to stay for dinner?" Cameron asked, running her hands down Chase's right forearm and locking them at his wrist.

"Nope, nope, I have two hours left and I intend to use them," House said, prodding Chelsea so she would get up. "Good working with you, kids. Thanks for playing."

"You guys were great," Chelsea said, smiling warmly. Her hair seems less harsh and brassy in the dim bar lights. "Seriously great."

"Where are _you_ going?" Foreman asked, returning with the beers.

"Skipping to the dessert," House said, plucking the leftover bills from Foreman's pocket. "Those two are for those two," he gestured toward Cameron and Chase, before wrapping his arm around Chelsea and sucking her lungs out with his tongue. "Victory is mine! Night, boy and girls," he said, striding out.

"Is he high?" Foreman asked distractedly, watching the two of them walk past the windows. He set down the beers in front of Chase and Cameron.

Cameron picked one up and tilted it toward him, signaling that she wanted to toast. "Possibly. Probably," she said.

He clinked his beer against hers and took a sip. It tasted like victory and two free plane tickets to Sydney. "Whatever. He's House."


End file.
